


Practise Makes Perfect

by vials



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, but still mostly porn, porn with a loose plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8597410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: Q and James are sent on assignment together with a cover story that involves them being very much a couple. Concerned about how well the cover story will hold up when put to the test, they decide a little practise is needed in the hotel room beforehand.





	

“Rise and shine, sweet thing.”

Q opened his eyes, blinking blearily as the faint smell or Earl Grey hit him. He propped himself up on one elbow, squinting slightly without his glasses, and just managed to make out James’s smirking face, watching him from beside the bed. Q reached out and clumsily grabbed his glasses, pushing them onto his face so he could focus enough of James that he could glare properly.

“You’re really taking this whole couple cover seriously, aren’t you?” he asked, and James looked the picture of innocence.

“Can’t I wake my Quartermaster up with some tea and a nice greeting?”

“I suppose nothing’s stopping you, aside from the fact that you were really pushing it with the lovey-dovey nonsense,” Q said, pushing himself up so he was sitting properly. Beside him, his laptop screen was dark, the lights blinking softly and letting him know he had clearly fallen asleep halfway through working again. How he had managed to wake up under the covers with his glasses off was anyone’s guess, but looking at James, Q thought he had a good idea.

“You have no idea just how lovey-dovey I can be,” James told him. “If all goes well later, you should find out.”

Q groaned. “ _Don’t_ push it, Bond.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I mean it. You look like the last person on earth who would be overly sentimental, and I don’t want people working out that we’re having them on.”

“I promise not to be too cheesy if you promise not to be too awkward,” James told him, still giving him that arrogant little smile, and Q spluttered for a moment, affronted.

“I am not – it isn’t – you can’t – I am not _awkward_ ,” he eventually said, prickling as James lost the battle to stifle his amusement.

“You are,” he said. “A little bit.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Let’s just say it’s obvious this isn’t usual for you.”

“Well of course it isn’t. I’m the sodding Quartermaster, not an agent.”

“I’m worried that will be evident.”

“I didn’t want to come, you know,” Q said, reaching for the tea and taking a cautious sip. There was no need – of course James had got it perfectly, steeped for just the right amount of time, milk and two sugars. “If you really want to complain, you should take it up with M. He was the one who insisted.”

“He wouldn’t have insisted if it wasn’t completely necessary,” James said, and the assurance in his voice seemed genuine. “There are a lot of rules around having an administrator on the field, and they all boil down to one thing – it only happens if there’s no other choice. This is one of those times.”

“I know, I know,” Q said, sighing. “I just wish there was another way. I’m so used to being able to do everything remotely that it’s a bit of a nightmare when I have to start dealing with physical things. Hardware is so much more risky, mainly because you have to get your physical hands dirty rather than just your metaphorical ones.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” James said. “Maybe the awkwardness is just stage fright, though I have to admit you’ve always been rather good at acting a part. Maybe there’s something else going on.”

His tone was teasing, but Q still felt his face flush slightly. He took a long sip of his tea, hoping the mug would mask most of it. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“A little bit like a first date, sometimes,” James said, still teasing. “I’m worried you might pass out if I have to kiss you in public.”

Q didn’t trust himself to say anything to that, but a quickly stifled squeak did escape, which he hastily turned into a cough.

“I’m thinking maybe we should practise a bit before tonight,” James said, and Q was positive the man enjoyed his suffering. “Just so you’re not caught completely off guard.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bond,” he said, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his tea. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were using this as an excuse to get a quick snog out of me.”

“Well, that’s very telling,” James said, now sitting himself on the bed beside Q, who realised immediately that they have never been in such close proximity in a setting so intimate before. There was nothing inherently scandalous about sitting on the same bed, he knew, but for some reason James made it seem that way.

“Oh?” Q asked. “Please, feel free to elaborate.”

James had that amused look in his eye that he always had when they bickered; Q knew it likely mirrored his own expression.

“Well, such accusatory statements usually mean that a person is straying in that direction themselves,” James said, watching Q the entire time he was talking. Q tried his best to keep everything off his face, but he had never been very good at that when it came to James. “Sometimes it’s a guilty conscience, other times it’s a case of personal insight. That’s what you would do if you were in that situation, so that’s what you accuse others of doing.”

“Oh, please,” Q said, trying his best to look sceptical. 

“So I think,” James said, his smile growing slightly. “That when you immediately accuse me of using this as an excuse to get a snog out of you, as you so elegantly put it, what you’re really saying is that if the roles were reversed, that would be precisely what you would do.”

Q snorted, shaking his head. “Save me your infuriating agent psychoanalysing, James. I would do no such thing.”

He set his mug down and turned back to look at James, noticing that this was also the first time he had seen him dressed down so much. He looked much more relaxed, in comfortable jogging bottoms and a T-shirt probably bought from some normal high street store, and if Q had let himself finish the thought, he might have considered it endearing. James was still watching him closely, just as amused as ever, and Q felt a sudden flicker of idiotic defiance. 

“Well,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “Get on with it, then.”

The brief flash of surprise on James’s face was more than enough to compensate Q for the rapid increase in heartrate he was suddenly experiencing.

“I’m sorry?” James asked, but the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth let Q know that he had recovered, and was merely playing along with the shock for the fun of it.

“Perhaps I’m mistaken,” Q said, forcing himself to adopt an almost nonchalant tone. “But I thought I would leave the option open anyway. If that is what you’re planning, or indeed what _I’m_ planning, I thought we had better get on with it now. We do have a busy day ahead of us, after all. I would hate to be out of step with the cover story.”

James looked at him for a long moment, and Q hated himself for thinking that there was something almost endearing about how _proud_ James looked of him. He supposed it wasn’t entirely a surprise – the man was always impressed when Q rose to the bait and refused to back down, and not for the first time he wondered how frustrating it must be when so many people were afraid of going toe to toe with you. 

“Quick peck, or passionate snog?” Q asked, looking James right in the eye as he spoke. “I’m trying to work out what would be more likely. I don’t think it’ll be necessary to have a full heavy make-out session in front of everyone, but you never know. We might be the sort of couple to do that.”

“I think we’re the sort of couple to be affectionate, but modestly so,” James said casually. “Though, having said that, I _do_ believe we’re liable to steal a few more inappropriate moments when we _think_ no one is looking, so maybe it’s best if we practise both.”

They had entered an odd game of chicken, and as stupid as Q knew it was, he knew he wouldn’t back down. He also knew that there was no chance in hell of James backing down, either, so really his decision alone had sealed his fate. His heart was thudding in his chest and James’s words from earlier came back to him with sudden force – he really _was_ acting like someone on their first date. 

“Who do you think is more likely to initiate?” he asked, partially for the fun of it but also partially to buy himself time.

“You, definitely, for the affectionate little pecks,” James said, that smile tugging at the corners of his mouth again. “I think the more risqué kissing would definitely be down to me, though.”

“I’d be inclined to agree with that,” Q said, quickly realising that there were only so many seconds he could hesitate after his agreement; too many, and James would know for certain that he was nervous. “Come here, then.”

To Q’s utter frustration, James had absolutely no problem with leaning closer, not hesitating for a second. Q felt strangely disconnected from his body as he shifted to meet him, and then, as quickly as he could get away with, pressed a brief but firm kiss to James’s lips. They were softer than he thought they would be, and that thought alone was enough to make the heat creep back into his cheeks – since when had he been the sort to admit that he had devoted some thought to what it might feel like to kiss James? 

“Not bad,” James told him, and Q realised they were still sitting ridiculously close to one another. “But you do need to work on the blushing.”

“Maybe I’m just lovesick,” Q said, because he knew there was no point in denying it. “One of those hopeless romantics who feels as though every kiss is the first one.”

“Perhaps we’ll go with that,” James said, amused, but it wasn’t in the usual way that he seemed amused; Q thought it almost seemed _fond_ , and he really didn’t want to start dissecting that interpretation, not right now. “But before we confirm what angle we’re going to play, there’s something else we need to check.”

“What –?” Q asked, briefly forgetting, before James leaned back towards him and in the brief second before their lips met again, Q remembered.

He hadn’t been expecting the passion behind the kiss. He’d had no idea it would feel so _real_ , knocking all the air out of him and sending him collapsing back against the headboard. James came with him and Q recovered from his shock long enough to remember to kiss him back, allowing James to continue with the lead but still contributing in his own way – he’d be damned if James could criticise him on this. Q let one hand find its way to the back of James’s head, pulling him closer, feeling James briefly smile against his mouth before he deepened the kiss. Q was suddenly very aware of all the points where they were touching, and by the time they pulled apart his was breathless, his glasses pushed at an angle on his nose. They looked at one another for a moment, still incredibly close, until James finally broke the silence.

“Well?” he asked, as casual as ever, and Q took a steadying breath.

“Good,” he said, before his brain apparently decided that that was enough thinking for the day and left his mouth to run away with him. “I could do with trying again, though. Just to be sure.”

“Practise _does_ make perfect, I suppose,” James said, and kissed him again.

This time Q put just as much back, pulling James closer and matching him as best as he could. He wasn’t sure when exactly James ended up practically on top of him, one hand supporting himself against the bed, the other resting on Q’s hip with just enough pressure that he couldn’t ignore it. He was kneeling, one leg between Q’s own, and Q was possessed with the sudden, overwhelming urge to arch himself against it. The thought made him suddenly realise that he felt entirely too warm and was absolutely already half-hard; judging from the way he felt James smile against him again, he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

“Hopefully _that_ won’t happen when there are other people around,” he murmured, so close that Q could feel James’s lips moving against his own. “Though, I suppose we might be the sort of couple that’s into that kind of thing, hmm?”

Q thought he was probably going to drop dead from embarrassment. “Shut _up_ , Bond.”

“What? I admire your dedication to the character.”

“It’s been a while, alright?” Q said, trying to sound defensive but mostly just sounding mortified, which was fitting, as that was precisely what he was. “And I _suppose_ you’re just a very good kisser.”

“Was that a _compliment_ from the Quartermaster?” James asked. “I’m honoured.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Q said, before groaning and covering his face with his hands. This was not what he had expected, and he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be able to live it down. He supposed this was what he got for being a huge idiot. Surely he hadn’t really thought he stood a chance against James when it came to calling bluffs?

“I’ll have you know I’m very good at other things, too, if you wanted to _practise_ those as well,” James said, and Q risked a glance through his fingers.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, feeling his cheeks growing hot against his hands. “I don’t think we quite need to practise that far.”

“Alright, sod the practising,” James said, and Q had no idea how he could be so casual about all this. “Maybe I just find the sight of you like this immensely attractive, and feel that since we’ve come this far…” James trailed off for a moment, before grinning. “Or, I could just leave you some privacy to sort it out yourself, and we’ll never mention it again. Entirely up to you.”

Q should have known that James would put him on the spot; of course he would, even though Q was aware that James likely knew what he wanted to do already. He supposed this was another test, if he would be able to go through with it after all, and Q only hoped his nerves wouldn’t fail him now. He would lying if he said it wasn’t something that had crossed his mind on occasion, and he would definitely be lying if he thought he could just go and sort it out himself without hating himself for missing the opportunity. It wasn’t as though he had been seriously considering it for the entire time he had known James, but the thought may or may not have briefly crossed his mind at the Gallery and not left since, whatever that might mean.

“We don’t have much time…” he said, weakly, and suddenly he was aware of the fact that James’s hand had never left his hip, except now it had somehow pushed its way past his T-shirt and was resting on his bare skin.

“We have enough time,” James told him, and just like that Q realised that he had run out of excuses; that he didn’t want to make any more of them anyway.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, before leaning up and pressing their lips together again.

It was only now that Q realised James had been holding back, likely for appearance’s sake. When they kissed again he was rougher, nipping at Q’s lips hard enough that he gasped, and if Q had allowed himself to think too much about it he thought there might be a sense of desperation in the way that James kissed him, rough and fast and just because he could rather than because he wanted to show off. Q did his best to keep up with him, his thoughts racing, but there was a sense of relief in the knowledge that this was no longer a competition – he could simply enjoy it, which after years of curiosity he fully intended to do.

They broke apart just long enough to pull clothing out of the way, tossing their shirts to the side before James had tugged Q back to the bed again, and Q could barely think about anything other than how James’s bare skin felt pressed against his. It was only now that he found himself becoming truly aware of how small he was next to James; there was something almost exciting in the knowledge that James could do anything to him and he wouldn’t stand a chance, and instead he was choosing to do _this_ – kissing red marks down Q’s neck, along his collarbone, sucking on the skin hard enough to sting but not so hard that it was unpleasant. Q found himself arching up slightly, his breath turning to gasps. He was going to be covered in the marks, he knew, and he was certain that it was intentional, that there was something deliberate in them, in how they would both know they were there under Q’s clothing for the rest of the assignment. For some reason the thought was incredibly satisfying, and Q let out a soft moan as James sucked another bruise onto his chest to join the others.

“You know,” James said, his breath hot against the newest mark. “I always wondered what you would look like, covered in these.”

Q managed to focus long enough to look down, seeing James resting his chin on him, the marks already clear and only darkening. James looked very pleased with himself, and usually the sight would infuriate Q but right now it only made him harder.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finding out,” he said, his voice strained, and James just laughed and went back to it, covering him in several more bruises before finally leaning up to kiss him again. Q dug his nails into James’s back and arched almost without thinking, feeling James shift slightly until he was pressing a leg right between Q’s own, and this time the temptation was too much to ignore. Q pushed himself against him, his nails digging deeper as the friction caused another rush of heat to run through him. He hoped James would get the hint, but it seemed he was content to let him suffer for a while longer, kissing him and nipping at his lip again, letting Q arch against him for long enough that Q was worried that was all James was going to give him.

“James,” he mumbled, when they finally broke for air; his voice sounded strange, and he knew his lips must be swollen. “I swear to god –”

“You do, do you?” James asked, moving his leg back slightly, and Q groaned in frustration before breaking off as he felt one of James’s hands travel down to his waistband, a finger hooking in and pulling his trousers away from the skin slightly. “No, come on. I’d like to hear the rest of that. Where was that going?”

“I was going to say, I swear to god if you don’t do something else soon I’m going to come in my sodding pyjamas, and that is not the way I pictured this going.”

James smiled. “Well, we can’t have that.”

He tugged Q’s trousers down in a movement that Q most certainly wasn’t expecting; the sudden exposure make him gasp and he had the insane urge to curl up on himself. Not that he would be able to anyway; James was in the way, moving back to hook his fingers in the waistband of Q’s shorts. Q tensed slightly, expecting him to do the same thing again, but he supposed that expecting anything was his first mistake. James did nothing of the sort, instead making him wait until he was squirming at thin air, and only then did he finally pull the remaining clothing out of the way at a pace that Q could only describe as infuriating. He supposed it was a good thing, really – he was much too frustrated to feel self-conscious, and he even managed a weak glare when James looked at him again.

“What?” James asked, innocently, and Q surprised himself by pulling him back up for a kiss, using the opportunity to free one leg from his clothing and cross his ankles over James’s back, using his feet to push James’s clothing down over his hips. He felt James laugh into the kiss and pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You seem surprised,” he said, and James laughed again.

“I suppose I wasn’t expecting that,” he said. “Just what else can you do with those legs, Q?”

“Trust me,” Q said. “If we had the time, I’d have them over your shoulders.”

“I might hold you to that,” James said, and Q got some satisfaction out of the knowledge that he must have got to him somehow; James reached down and pushed his clothing the rest of the way himself, and Q quickly realised that he thankfully had no more desire to make him wait. 

He didn’t expect the sudden hand on his cock, and it sent a jolt through him, forcing the air out of his lungs in a gasp as he instinctively raised his hips into the touch. James wasn’t rough but he wasn’t exactly gentle either, teasing him with a thumb running over the tip, the slightest pressure to his grip as he did so.

“Tell me the truth,” James said, sounding breathless himself as his grip tightened slightly, now moving slowly up Q’s cock, his thumb passing lightly over the tip again before James moved his hand back down. “How long have you wanted to do this?”

Q could barely catch hold of his thoughts, though he tried to assemble them into something coherent lest James think he needed a moment and stopped. “I don’t know. A while. Not right away, though – _fuck_! – though I did think you were rather easy on the eye.”

“Oh? Is that all?”

“Well. Maybe my mind strayed there a few times,” Q said, gasping again. “ _James_!”

“I’m afraid,” James said, still keeping up the almost relaxed rhythm he had found. “That I suppose I was rather inappropriate about it. You often have the kind of look I would love to wipe off your face, and this is probably the best way to do it.”

Q let out a spluttered laugh. “And what look might that be?”

“Oh, you can be quite arrogant,” James said, and Q had something cutting to say to that but James seemed to expect this; he gave Q’s cock a particularly hard stroke and chased the words right out of his mind. “It’s quite an attractive look on you, that surety. But you know me, I do prickle sometimes, when told what to do. I did wonder what it would be like to see you… not so sure of yourself.”

“I’m very sure of myself,” Q said, the breathlessness evident in his voice.

“It’s a good look on you,” James said, briefly taking his hand away, and Q let out a low whine of displeasure. 

When James’s hand returned, he was running it along both of them, pressing them together in a way that Q found maddening. He hadn’t thought it could get any worse than before, with James’s slow strokes leaving him aching, but he had been quickly proven wrong. He wanted to arch into James’s touch, wanted to bring his own hand down to hurry it up, but he didn’t dare do anything for fear of James pausing, or stopping, or doing anything that might deprive him further. There was a part of him that knew it was all intentional – James wasn’t going to rest until he had seen him as incoherent as possible, and the defiant part of Q wanted to make him work for every moment of it but the rest of him couldn’t bring himself to be that spiteful. He had his limits, and he was fairly sure he had reached them. 

He dug his nails into James’s back again, hard and deliberate, eager to repay James for the marks dotted over his chest and neck and collarbone. He felt James tense slightly, his breathing hitch, and so he did it again, dragging his nails down the skin slowly, daring to raise his hips a little into James’s grip. 

“Please,” he mumbled, barely aware he had said it but feeling no shame when he realised he had done so. “Please, James, I can’t –”

It seemed to be what James had been waiting for; Q felt his grip tighten, his pace picking up enough that Q was finally getting something from it. He dared move his hips again and when James didn’t slow down or mention it at all he let himself match James’s rhythm, no longer concerned with whatever sounds might escape him. He must have been doing something right because James’s pace only quickened, and Q was vaguely aware that he was still mumbling words to him, more pleases probably but they were quickly becoming lost in moans and shuddered gasps. He was close, he could feel it, and he dragged his nails down James’s back again, kicking wildly at the bedsheets and arching into James’s grip before he came, suddenly and harder than he had in a long time. James didn’t let up, keeping his pace as Q shuddered under him with a harsh gasp, and Q was beginning to wonder just how much more he could take when he felt James tense with a gasp of his own, more warmth joining what was already cooling on Q’s stomach. 

For a moment they lay there, breathless and tangled, before Q finally caught his breath enough to speak.

“Fuck,” he said, and felt James laugh. 

“So, what do you think?” he asked, and Q couldn’t ignore the way he loved to hear James’s voice like this – content and almost sleepy, his breath warm against Q’s skin as they lay pressed together. “Ready to sell this cover story?”

“Oh, I think so,” Q said thoughtfully. “Though, further practise might be required. You know, when we have enough time to really go over everything.”

“I think you’re right,” James agreed. “You can never practise too much.”

Q laughed, closing his eyes and focusing on how warm James felt against him, how the weight of him felt as they lay there. He knew there would be plenty of time for going over everything later – and no doubt he would. Right now, he would just enjoy it. He would take it as part of the cover story, and whatever it was, whatever it might be, for simplicity’s sake he would call it practise.


End file.
